


Contours

by larvitar23



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Confessions, First Love, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Oneshot, Public Masturbation, Public Sex, Slow Burn, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-09 23:52:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7822093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larvitar23/pseuds/larvitar23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shigure is at a standstill with his art, and Hisame volunteers to help him via modeling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Contours

**Author's Note:**

> I realize that in canon, Shigure probably does know how to figure draw (if his support w/ his dad is anything to go buy), so suspend your disbelief if you can. 
> 
> Also, this is pretty long. Sorry.

It was during their normal get-together under the gazebo that Shigure mentioned his current artist block. As always, the two friends exchanged their favorite foods: homemade pickles from Hisame, and freshly brewed tea from Shigure. The pitter-patter of the rain was a tranquil rhythm. Hardly anyone from the army liked to be outside during the rain, which allowed the two to have long idle chats in peace and comfort. One topic led to another, and soon enough Shigure shared his current worries to the young samurai after Hisame asked about his paintings.

Shigure hummed, thinking over what to say. After a moment of looking into his tea, as if trying to read omens from the swirls in his drink, the prince looked back to Hisame with an apologetic grin. 

“To be frank, I’ve been having trouble as of late. It seems as though I can’t relax enough to get the brush to move as I’d like. It’s gotten to the point where I’ve just abstained from painting for the last few days.”

Shigure, unable to paint? The concept seemed alien to Hisame. A Shigure that doesn’t paint was akin to a samurai who didn’t train: it was inconceivable, unnatural. 

“How dreadful. I can’t imagine how frustrated you must feel.”

Shigure laughed softly; Hisame knew this laugh to be the product of nervousness. Ah, he’s more upset than I thought.

Hisame looked out into the rain. In all his time talking with Shigure, this was the first instance where he’d seen the prince so distraught. The swordsman felt an invisible weight on his chest. He searched through the falling drops for answers, for any words of comfort he could convey to his dear friend. Strangely, his father popped up into his mind; the image of Hinata practicing his katana out in the yard was one he has had since childhood. 

The samurai pondered on the memory as he finished eating a pickle. He savored the sweet-sour tang along his tongue. 

“I was just thinking,” started Hisame, “perhaps you need to try painting in a different style.”

Shigure turned to Hisame, his one visible eye a sapphire blue that locked onto the samurai.   
“A different style? What do you mean?”

“Well, I was just thinking about my father. You know how much he trains; he never skips a day. It made me think about how he doesn’t get tired of it, if there was ever a time he felt stuck in his practice.”

“Ah,” mused Shigure. His shoulders tensed for a moment. In seeing Hisame try to suss out solutions, Shigure felt the overwhelming need to downplay his worry. It’s no trouble, Hisame, really. It’s just a momentary phase. No need to lose sleep on it. 

However, to his surprise, Shigure also felt a fluttering of wings within his stomach. He’s thinking of me, he thought. It long ago dawned upon the prince that he might have a crush on his friend, and had since tried to put out the torch in favor of keeping the tranquility of their friendship. The flame, to Shigure’s surprise, had not been put out completely.

Shigure was taken out of his reverie by the sound of Hisame placing his cup upon the table. How long have I been daydreaming? He turned to see if the samurai had said anything else without his notice. To his relief, Hisame hadn’t yet spoken, and Shigure was able to hear the swordsman’s next trail of thoughts without hindrance.

“Now that I ponder on it, my father alternates between different exercises. It’s not just swordplay; I remember a time when he ran laps around the house, back when I lived in my Deeprealm. He increased the number of laps each day, and sometimes I’d run along with him.” 

The samurai smiled, his smooth lips a soft thin line. It reminded Shigure of the hull of a boat, or an small ident from a used pillow—something gentle and supportive. The prince loved to see that smile. He resisted the urge to trace his thumb along Hisame’s lips, to feel that smile and soak it into his skin. Instead, he gripped his cup tighter, restrained both palms to the mellow heat coming from his tea. 

“Not just running: my father would do pull-ups from the trees, balance a book on his head while swinging his sword—all sorts of exercises. I think that it helps him to loosen up, and not get worked up about his form. Perhaps that’s what you need right now.”

Shigure hummed, looked out to the rain, which began to weaken in intensity. It wouldn’t hurt to try, thought Shigure. 

“That sounds reasonable. However, I don’t know how much I can vary up my style. I’ve mainly done landscapes and still-lifes until now.”

“Hmm. Well, what’s something you have the least experience painting? A style you’re most afraid to do?’

Shigure was quick to give a reply. “Figure drawing,” he said with assurance. He’d done portraits, but he’d always had trouble painting anyone if it wasn’t from the waist up. Not for lack of trying; back when he lived in his Deeprealm, his foster brother would pose for him as Shigure drew sketches. The results were discouraging rather than enlightening. His foster brother would try to alleviate the Prince’s disappointment with a joke or with a funny pose, but Shigure hadn’t tried to do full figures since then. 

“Alright, then try doing that for a while.”

Shigure chuckled. “That’s not as easy to start as you think.”

“Why’s that?” 

“Well, first of all I’d need a person to model for me. Then there’s set-up, location, what utensils to use—"

“I’ll model for you,” said Hisame. It slipped out before he gave room for doubt. “As for location, you could draw here at the gazebo. It’s not as if anyone walks around here on sunny days, anyhow.”

Shigure’s heart skipped a beat. He discreetly bit his lip. Hisame, a model?

The idea seemed dangerous. It was hard enough pinning down his yearning when the two of them were chatting about and sharing a meal. Modeling would mean that Hisame would need to stay still, and more likely than not, not speak too much in the course of Shigure’s work. An hour or more of looking at Hisame…the line a friendship drawn between them writhed like a river, shifting to and fro until it became indistinguishable. 

“Would you really do that for me?” asked Shigure. He thanked the gods that one side of his face was hidden behind his bangs; he could feel the corner of his mouth wanting to curl, could feel his cheek reddening with heat. 

“Of course,” said Hisame. The prince looked adorable at that moment: slightly flushed with what the swordsman assumed was earnest appreciation, the way his friend’s eyes were aglow, beautiful blue eyes shimmering like rays of sunlight upon the sea. Shigure had a way of looking radiant without trying. “It’ll be good for me, too. I can work on my endurance.”

The Pegasus knight chuckled. Hisame could make anything into a sort of honing some skill or another. 

“Then we’re doing each other a favor. Thank you, Hisame.”

“You’re welcome.”

The rain stopped, the sunlight brightening the undersides of the clouds. Hisame considered the landscape after a storm to be the most beautiful: from the rain, the plants became lush and lively, and the sky had a way of opening up into chasms of haloed light. Sharing these moments with Shigure were a pleasure, so the samurai had no doubt that the modeling would go smoothly. 

 

“Sit in any position you like. ”

Hisame looked around the space. Shigure set up a chair for him to sit, as well as a tatami mat underneath. The prince set up his stand some feet away, angled at the right of where the chair faced forward. Instead of the canvasses Shigure often labored over, sheets of drawing paper were stacked neatly upon an easel, along with a putty eraser, a couple of charcoal pencils, and an ink-tipped feather.

The swordsman walked toward the chair, sitting straight against the wooden back. He turned his face towards Shigure, his black eyes searching for reassurance that he picked a good spot. The pegasus knight simply nodded. 

It’s strange to be here with the sun out, Hisame noted. It wasn’t exactly sunny—there were flocks of clouds floating across the sky, and being late morning the landscape was muted in color, being lit with a light touch rather than the stark brightness of the afternoon. The change of timing threw off the samurai more than he’d thought it would. In a sense, he felt more exposed: whereas during the rain the gazebo was a protective shell of comfort, now it felt as though it cracked open. 

“Are you ready to start? It’ll just be a five-minute sketch, but you can stretch out ahead of time. Sitting still’s more work than it looks.” 

“Ah, no, it’s fine,” said Hisame. His voice same out stilted, a pit of nervous energy messing with the rhythm of his words. What’s the matter with me? I’m just sitting in a chair. No pressure.

Shigure smiled. 

“Alright,” he said, and then as if a switch were turned on his person, the Vallan prince started to draw, looking towards Hisame with complete focus. The moments in between his gaze were few; Shigure spent mere seconds looking down onto his paper before lifting his eyes back onto Hisame. The samurai began to regret his current position; having to look at Shigure head on, trying not to make noticeable movements, was harder than he expected.

It’s those eyes, thought the swordsman. The deep blue orbs seemed to envelop Hisame, like whirlpools, and the young man felt lost within his friend’s gaze. His heart sped up a bit faster than normal. It was strange to be looked at so intensely—yet somehow, more than vulnerable, Hisame felt pleased. Those long looks Shigure gave him were akin to a caress, a gentle touch without touch. Hisame tried to picture what Shigure was thinking as he drew. Most likely, it was in technical terms: a sloping thick line to capture the ridge of the samurai’s shoulder, or the fast light strokes denoting the lithe, long legs of the chair. For a moment, Hisame imagined Shigure’s touch against him, his gaze as the equivalent of the Pegasus knight’s pale palms. What would it be like, to have them smooth over his back, his neck? 

Shigure’s voice broke the samurai out from his reverie.

“Alright, you can move into the next pose,” said the prince. Shigure said this calm and confident, but Hisame noticed some flush to his cheeks. It could’ve been the heat, as 

Hisame himself was feeling a tad warm even under the gazebo’s shade. 

“Do you need a break? I brought some tea and biscuits if you’d like to rest for a bit.”

Hisame grinned, contained his urge to laugh. 

“Shigure, it’s only been five minutes. Trust me, I’m fine. Do you need a break?”

“Ah, no,” said the knight. He turned away from the swordsman, brushed a hand through his hair. “I suppose I’m being a worrywart, huh?”

“Just a tad. It’s understandable, though; you haven’t done full figure drawing since you’re childhood, right?”

“Yes, it has been some time…” 

Hisame noted the slight apprehension to his friend’s voice. Perhaps that wasn’t the reason for his worrying. If not, then was he just overly concerned for Hisame’s well-being? The thought almost made the samurai smile. Shigure’s such a sweetheart, he mused, it’s a wonder that he hasn’t been wooed upon yet. 

Unless he had within his Deeprealm…to Hisame’s surprise, he felt his chest constrict at the thought, as if a snake were coiled around his mid-section. As if to shake off the feeling, Hisame proceeded to get into his next pose. He chose another simple position: he scooted to the edge of the chair, and pulled up one leg so that it was up upon one of the seat corners. As he wrapped his arms around his leg for support, the samurai leaned his head against his knee, his face turned downward. This way, he’d have a break from Shigure’s long looks. Relief, mixed in with a hint of disappointment, dissolved the tension his earlier thought raised. 

“It’ll be another five minute sketch. Are you ready?”

“Yes, go ahead.”

The next five minutes flew by fast; Hisame attributed this to his decision to turn away from his friend as he drew. With nothing but his knee to look at, the samurai churned his mind back to the tension from before. He had a bad habit of dissecting his thoughts, for better or worse, and regardless of whether he wanted to know the truth of his psyche. 

'I couldn’t be jealous, could I?' Perhaps he was envious of his friend’s good looks; Hisame wasn’t unattractive, but he wasn’t a knockout either. But as he pondered it, the weight on his chest indicated that this wasn’t the case. If not that, then what? 

“Time’s up. You’re right about one thing; I’m definitely less tense than I was previously.”

“That’s good,” replied Hisame. He couldn’t help but grin; he was glad his friend was getting some help out of this exercise. He let down his leg, standing up from his seat. 

What Shigure had warned him was on the nose; sitting still in one position got to one’s muscles after a while. As the samurai stretched out his arms, he felt a hint of sweat slick along the back of his neck. He wasn’t usually so heated in his samurai uniform, but as of that moment the fabric felt stuffy and Hisame could feel his skin prickle at the heat. 

“Shigure, could I take off my shirt for the rest of the sketches? I’m feeling too warm under my tunic.”

There was such a pause in-between Shigure’s reply that for a second the samurai assumed he didn’t hear him. 

“Yes, that’s fine,” the prince said. He looked preoccupied with his art tools, kneading his eraser as he sat in front of his easel. His shoulders seemed to return to their rigid position. Seeing Shigure react this way made Hisame want to retract his statement. Perhaps he should just bear with the heat. But in trying to piece together why his friend might be tense, the samurai couldn’t think of anything plausible. Both men have seen each other’s chests before, whether from getting healed from a recent battle to coming to and fro from the public bath, so it shouldn’t have been a problem for Shigure. 

Then why is it? 

Hisame took off his tunic. At the moment, he decided not to analyze what his friend’s reaction could mean. In the back of his mind, there was a hint of bold curiosity which fueled his decision: he wished to see how Shigure would react.

This time, Hisame opted for lying along the tatami mat. He rested his arms behind his head, and closed his eyes. Hopefully I won’t fall asleep like this.

The gentle sounds of charcoal against paper filled in the silence between the two friends. With his eyes closed, Hisame became alert to the rhythms of Shigure’s pencil strokes: the harsh sweep of a thick line, the near-inaudible scratches denoting thin, loose lines. Once more, he thought about where Shigure’s eyes were looking. Were they gliding along the lank of his arms? Or perhaps they were rested along his hips? As inappropriate as these thoughts were becoming, Hisame found it impossible to stop his mind from creating these fantasies. The images popped into his head, one after another: Shigure cupping the rounds of his knees, Shigure’s palms trailing through his light brown hair, Shigure touching him in every way possible and imaginable. Hisame couldn’t recall having thought of his friend in this way before; or, at least, he hadn’t consciously had these sorts of feelings toward Shigure. 

“Um, Hisame.”

The swordsman opened his eyes. He turned down to see a small protrusion jutting from the bridge of his pants. 

Hisame quickly turned away from Shigure, until he was on his side. Too shocked to think of anything to say, the samurai instead buried his face into his hands. 

He felt a light touch of a palm at his shoulder. Hisame savored the touch, even as he writhed in embarrassment. Then, the prince’s melodic voice broke the silence.

“Modeling’s no easy task. It’s a vulnerable position for a person to be in, as a model cannot control how they’re depicted or how they’re bodies might hinder them during a session.”

Hisame felt Shigure’s thumb give a gentle press upon the shoulder, a non-verbal reassurance. Though still too shy enough to flip onto his back, the swordsman turned his body enough so that he could look at Shigure as he spoke. The prince’s face, while somewhat flushed, held an expression of calm. His smile was nurturing, a small crest along the young man’s fair features. 

“That is to say,” continued Shigure, “that it’s an artist’s responsibility to allow the model to feel comfortable in their skin, and to keep the well-being of their model in mind as they create their work. Hisame, if you feel too vulnerable, we can stop the exercise here.”

Hisame pondered on it. It wasn’t that he felt uncomfortable; he was too comfortable with Hisame. Comfortable enough with his public vulnerability that he had to know for sure what might be the cause for it.

“Shigure…I think I might be attracted to you.”

A short pause. The prince didn’t let the silence linger too long. “Oh? That’s…flattering to hear.”

The prince stammered before finishing the rest of his sentence.

“I’m attracted to you, as well. I’ve felt that way for a while now, actually.”

Hisame never got what his father meant when he said that talking with women got him tongue-tied. For one, he hadn’t personally felt that way towards any women his own age, though he could pinpoint where women were attractive. But more so than that, Hisame’s calm temperament made it so that he exuded a more put-together presence than one would otherwise suspect. For a long time, the only exception to the rule had been his parents; now, Hisame noted, he had to include Shigure on his list of people who could break his composure. For, in the seconds after Shigure confessed his own feelings to him, Hisame leaned up to the prince’s face to give a peck on the cheek. 

“Gods,” said Shigure. 

“Ah, I’m sorry, I should have asked! I mean—was that okay?”

“No no, I’m overjoyed, more than you know. I just—my mind’s spinning. The person I’ve been wanting all this time…he likes me too.”

At this, the prince smiled that lovely grin of his. Along with the dimpled corners of his smile, the prince’s cheeks blushed light pink, and Hisame could even tell that the ridge of Shigure’s ears were flushed with joy. Many desires hit Hisame at once: the longing to cup the knight’s face and begin a series of long kisses; the yearning to touch Shigure in the way the swordsman imagined his eyes caresseing along his body; each new want was tinged in possibility, and all seemed too sweet for Hisame to comprehend. 

“Shigure, I feel the most comfortable in my skin when I’m with you.”

Shigure took a moment to take a deep breath. “Is that so? Then…do you wish to continue?”

“Yes.”

The prince took Hisame’s hand and helped to pull him up from the floor. The two gazed at each other longingly for a moment; only the sudden call of a distant bird racked them out from their shared adoration. 

As Shigure sat back down at his easel, Hisame looked down to his pants tentatively. His groin had long settled down, and though partly relieved, a fluttering thought bounced within Hisame’s mind, much bolder than he would expect from himself. 

“Alright, we have about twenty minutes left. You can start whenever you’re ready.”

Hisame could feel his throat choke up in the thought of what he was about to say. 

“Shigure, may I take off my pants?”

The swordsman couldn’t bear to look at the prince, so his eyes bore into a hole within the tatami mat. He heard a soft gasp of breath, then the familiar voice, with a slight tremble to his speech.

“Whatever feels best for you.”

Hisame grinned to himself. Shigure, ever the professional.

The samurai had no trouble taking off his outerwear; however, he took slight pause at taking away his underwear. The familiar feeling of vulnerability—the self-consciousness that came with being so exposed to another person, let alone a lover—made him hesitate for a brief minute. He looked up to Shigure, searching for reassurance for what he was about to do. The prince’s expression was filled with emotion—nervousness, excitement, desire. When their eyes met, Shigure gave a small smile, the sort of patient expression you give a child to build their confidence. Hisame’s courage was thus replenished. With one swift movement, he let down the last of his garments, standing fully naked in front of his partner. 

Hisame locked eyes with Shigure. He wanted to see the prince’s expression each step of the process. “I’m ready,” he said.

Shigure took in Hisame’s form. The swordsman’s heartbeat fluttered with exhilaration. For a moment, Hisame could see the yearning and lust in his lover’s eyes: the sapphire blue was a shade darker, was the color of a storm cloud brimming with electrical energy. The samurai let that passion pass through him like a lightning rod. His body tingled with delight before settling its pleasure to the pit of his stomach. 

The prince drew in a more relaxed manner than in his previous iterations. From what Hisame could see, Shigure handled the pencil as if a mere extension of his hand, sketching across the page with the grace of a maestro conductor. Like before, Shigure’s eyes would only briefly look down to see the lines unfurling onto the page; for the rest of the time, his attention was given fully to Hisame, a piercing expression of focus sinking its heat under Hisame’s skin. The swordsman prayed to the gods that his body would remain patient for the duration of the sketch. 

At the end of the session, Hisame sat down upon the mat. Standing still was almost much worse than having to sit still. He looked up to Hisame, who was turning to the next page of drawing paper on his easel. The prince sharpened the tip of his pencil before speaking to his lover. 

“Um, if it’s not too much trouble…I’d like to direct the position for the next pose.”

Hisame smiled. “No trouble at all.”

Shigure opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. His cheeks flushed a bright red, and he pulled back his lopsided bangs to reveal his eyes tracking the floor with a nervous intensity. 

“Gods, what am I thinking?”

Hisame blushed as well. Whatever it was, it was lewd enough to make Shigure flush with embarrassment. Ah, he’s so cute like this, he mused. 

“I’m willing to do whatever it is you’d like me to,” assured Hisame.

Shigure gazed over to Hisame. His eyes were fraught with desire. He bit his lip before willing himself to speak.

“Hisame, as shameful as it is to say…um, I’ve always wondered what you looked like when—um, well, when you masturbated.”

Hisame took his turn to look distraught. “Ah…do you wish to see me like that?”

Shigure nodded. 

The samurai laughed softly. “It’d be a pleasure, Shigure.”

Shigure looked down onto his paper as Hisame adjusted himself for his next pose. He pretended to look busy—organized his drawing paper, stretched his arms—but all the while his mind whirled with clashing emotions. Just what was he thinking? Has pining for the swordsman for so long lead him to become this perverse? Yet, the back of his neck warmed as he heard the subtle movements of Hisame; the warmth traveled down through his body until every inch of the prince was flush with anticipation. This pleasure was unlike anything he felt before. Now that he had Hisame with him, rather than as a fantastical vision of his imagination, his longing was all the more pointed. 

“Alright…I’m ready, Shigure.”

Despite himself, the prince eagerly looked up from his page to his lover. Hisame was sitting in the chair, his back straight up against the backboard. His arms were draped in front of his chest, which was slightly slick from sweat. Shigure withheld a moan as his eyes trailed down the length of the samurai’s arms down to where his palms met: grasped lightly around his dick, slightly pink and semi-erect. Out the corner of his eye, Shigure noticed the litheness of Hisame’s legs, how his thighs so exquisitely opened up for him in displaying the swordsman’s cock. One leg was twined around the front chair leg, as though Hisame was anchoring himself to the seat. Shigure swallowed down his urge to reach out to those pale toes, which were curled up against the wood of the chair leg. The prince bit his tongue as he finally looked into his lover’s face. Hisame’s eyes were closed, which was perhaps his way of being able to cope with the vulnerability of the act. His mouth was slightly agape, and Shigure imagined his lips pressing into that openness, sliding against the samurai’s tongue, exploring those inner walls…

“You’re amazing, Hisame.”

The swordsman simply hummed. A small smile stretched across his face. 

“You flatter me.”

“No, I mean it. I…you’re the first person I ever felt this way about. Nothing that I ever dreamed compares with having you here like this. Really.”

Hisame leaned his head to one side, resting it against the chair’s stub. He answered Shigure in a low, shaky tone, his exhales shallow. His cheeks reddened, his closed eyes furled tighter. 

“You should start, Shigure. I don’t know how long I can manage this pose.”

The prince sighed with pleasure. Then, picking up his pencil, he began to sketch. 

With their sexual tension out of the way, the two lovers were relaxed in their positions. No longer having to restrain himself, Shigure spoke sweet nothings and compliments to Hisame as he drew the beauty of the samurai’s body. With each invocation of his desire, the prince spiked the swordsman’s own pleasure; unable to make more bold movements, Hisame relegated his pleasure to his feet, rubbing his ankle gently against the chair legs, his toes curling in and out with each panting exhale. 

“Mm, Shigure,” gasped Hisame. “Where are you looking right now?”

“Your stomach. I’m drawing how smooth it looks; gods, if I could touch you right now, I’d trace a finger down across that chestnut hairline, kiss it even.”

Hisame groaned. A drop of sweat slid from his forehead. His back arched against the seat, his body bending closer over his reddened dick. 

“What else would you do?”

The prince felt his pants get tighter as he went further into his description. 

“I’d touch you all the way down to your inner thigh. My thumbs would press circles there, until they moved to your pink shaft. I’d rub you softly up to the tip before massaging your tip in my palm.”

Hisame’s grip tightened around his cock. Shigure looked on with awe as the head of his lover’s penis began to form pre-cum. The swordsman lifted his head back, his spine stretching up against the backboard. Hisame’s panting picked up speed, his cheeks burning a deep red. 

“Ah, Shigure, I can’t—ah—I can’t stop. Please, I need to…!”

“Go ahead, love. I’m at my limit as well.”

Hisame began to rub his shaft. He moved at a steady pace, keeping in time with each exhale of breath. He leaned back further into his chair; his toes stretched out, his feet hovering inches above the floor, and with each rub they bobbed to and fro. As if a mantra, Hisame whispered Shigure’s name, each invocation a cry of pleasure. 

I’ve practiced more than enough, thought Shigure. He let down his pencil, and stood to walk to his seated lover. As he drew closer, he could feel the heat of Hisame’s desire emanating from his naked body. The swordsman continued without notice, stroked his cock with fervor. 

“Shigure, Shigure…!”  
The pegasus knight answered the samurai’s plea with a yearnful kiss. As his lips touched Hisame’s, he tasted the bitter-sweetness of pickle juice. Shigure laughed against his lover’s mouth before swiping his tongue along the contours of Hisame’s lips. Hisame moaned at the feeling; he pressed his thumb against the head of his cock, hoping to match the intensity of Shigure’s desire.

“Let me help you,” Shigure said into Hisame’s ear. He slid a hand down the swordsman’s chest, his index finger smoothing across the supple skin like a paintbrush upon papyrus. Hisame shuddered from his lover’s touch. As Shigure’s hand came closer to the samurai’s pulsing dick, the two kissed sporadically, their lips wet with each other’s taste as they nipped and licked one another. Then, to Hisame’s delight, Shigure’s fair palm rested upon Hisame’s at his base, and guided his lover’s hand up and down his shaft. 

It wasn’t long before the swordsman came into their hands, as well as upon his lap. Hisame buried his head into Shigure’s chest. He sighed happily as he shuddered against his lover’s frame, and thoughtless pressed a finger upon Shigure’s hand, still grasped upon his cock. 

After catching his breath, Hisame looked up into the prince’s bright blue eyes. There were so many things he felt he needed to express, but with so much on his mind, the samurai opted for a gentle kiss of Shigure’s cheek. Shigure blushed; he bent forward over his seated lover, and without a word, commenced to clean up Hisame’s cum with his own mouth. The prince took his time, pausing between licks to savor the taste of Hisame between his tongue. Hisame gazed down to the prince lovingly, pulling back his lover’s bangs as he performed his service upon him.

“Shigure,” the swordsman started.

The prince looked up. His head was laid across Hisame’s right thigh, looking to his samurai with adoration. 

“I want to see you, too. If you’ll let me…I’d like to have you model for me, as well.”

Shigure grinned. “Just tell me what to do, and I’ll follow your lead.”

The two exchanged smiles before Shigure got up to undress. He worked from top to bottom, first un-cuffing the collar of his shirt before stripping it off. Hisame gazed on with lust as the prince worked down to his underwear, each new display of skin as entrancing as the last. Finally, Shigure let the swordsman do the honor of pulling his pants, revealing an erect cock, already spilling with pre-cum. 

“We’ll need to do something about this,” teased Hisame. He brushed his lips upon the cock’s head, licking some of the cum from its wet surface. Shigure blushed at the sight of it, sighing with desire as Hisame gazed up at him with a seductive expression. 

“Let’s move onto the mat,” said Hisame. The two young men settled onto the tatami, Shigure pushing the chair some ways off so that they’d have more space. The swordsman softly guided his loved to get into a downward dog position, Shigure positioned onto his hands and knees.

“I’ll need you to stay like this while I get you ready. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” replied Shigure. Despite his nerves making his heartbeat pick up, he trusted Hisame to take care of him. Not being able to see Hisame’s actions only heightened his anticipation for what was to come. This must be what Hisame felt like just before, he thought to himself.

A hand gently held onto his side. Shigure groaned softly as softly pinched at the sensitive skin. Then, a wet warm hand entered his back entrance. It moved in carefully, adjusting to the ever-loosening width of the hole. For a split second, Shigure winced; the feeling took some getting used to.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, Hisame. Please, continue.”

The swordsman rubbed his finger within the entrance, and soon the touch became increasingly pleasurable. A second finger pressed near the entrance, awaiting the prince’s permission. Shigure nodded, gasped as the finger joined its twin to the prince’s sensitive spot. The prince swayed in rhythm to Hisame’s presses, his cock all the while hardening from the swordsman’s touch.

“Gods, Hisame. It feels so good…mm, please don’t stop…”

“You’re almost ready now; I’ll need you to turn over soon.”

Soon after, the fingers slid out, and Shigure softly plead for more. Hisame held the prince at his waist, and pulled Shigure so that he sat halfway on the samurai’s lap. Hisame’s cock leaned intimately along Shigure’s side, its pulsing heat reverberating through the prince’s body. 

“You want me inside of you, don’t you?” murmered Hisame.

“Gods, yes,” answered Shigure.

“Lay down for me.”

Shigure maneuvered himself to face Hisame. He carefully lowered himself to the mat, opened his legs so that he was seen in all his glory. Hisame took a moment to soak in his lover’s image: the way his fair skin seemed to glow with sweat and blush; how lush and soft the blue hair on the mons of his cock looked; and the way Shigure’s bangs were brushed out of the way, revealing the needing expression upon the prince’s face, his lips enticingly wet with their previous kisses. 

The swordsman pulled Shigure’s backside forward, bringing the knight’s legs so that they leaned on either side of Hisame’s hips. He lifted the prince’s ass from the lower waist, so that it was mere inches from the samurai’s hardened cock. Hisame teased Shigure, pressing his head near the entrance.

“Hisame,” gasped Shigure. The knight shudder, thrust up his hip in search for further contact with Hisame’s dick.

“You’re beautiful,” said Hisame. Then, with precision, he began to enter Shigure.

Shigure resisted the urge to buck into his lover at once. Instead, he took to gazing out towards Hisame, panting sporadically as he watched his lover bury himself deeper. Soon, Shigure stretched near the end of Hisame’s shaft. The weight, the warmth, the pulse…the pleasure surmounted all previous feelings, all of his fantasies and masturbatory dreams. 

Hisame started to thrust. The first was slow and careful, taking care to make the transition as painless as possible. Though Shigure felt some dull ache coiled in his stomach, the feeling was brief. Not too long after, the feeling of the friction outweighed the initial pain. The swordsman kneaded the prince’s ass as he pushed and pulled into Shigure; the supple fair flesh were clay under Hisame’s hands, fitting just right under his gentle strokes. The prince allowed himself to buck back into Hisame’s thrusts, thus doubling the waves of pleasure rising through their bodies. 

“Ah! Hisame, gods, you’re--! Ah, ah—“

“Shigure…mm, arch your back more. I want to feel you more.”

Shigure did as his lover requested, stretching his spine so that his toes pirouetted from the mat. Unable to hold back, the prince grasped his own dick, which had long been longing for touch, and stroked in time to Hisame’s thrusts. His panting became louder, his groans longer with pleading. Hisame gazed down onto Shigure with lustful eyes; he watched on as his lover rubbed his cock, let the awe of the sight fuel the urgency of his thrusts.

“Shigure,” groaned Hisame. He leaned into a thrust to hover his mouth over Shigure’s stomach. He licked the tip of the prince’s shaft, feeling the wave of pleasure spasm through his lover. Then, with a husky moan, began sucking the head, holding Shgiure’s hips in place as they bucked against him. The slick sounds which escaped from the friction of their bodies echoed through both of the lovers. 

Upon climax, Shigure moaned Hisame’s name, gasped as the last spasm of intercourse jolted through his body. Hisame drank in Shigure’s cum, taking the salty taste of his lover and swallowing it. Though not as flavorful as his homemade pickles, Hisame cherished the taste of his lover all the same. 

Hisame pulled out from his lover as the prince panted, catching his breath. The swordsman hovered over Shigure, watching him as the red of his cheeks began to settle into a tranquil, pink pigment. Shigure’s bangs had yet to resettle over his left eye; Hisame wished for this to remain that way, if only for a little while. 

“It’s a wonder no one asked you to model,” said Hisame.

Shigure chuckled in-between breaths. “You’d be the first.”

Gods, he’s co cute, thought Hisame. He gently laid down upon Shigure so that his head was laid near the crook of his lover’s neck. He planted soft, brief kisses there before letting his face settle there. He closed his eyes, mumbled against Shigure’s fair skin. 

“This modeling business is tiring.”

Shigure looked on to Hisame with a wide grin. “You did wonderfully.’

“Hmm. Well, do you think you can start painting again?”

“I imagine so,” replied Shigure. “Although, I’ll probably need to do figure drawing practice for a while before then.”

Hisame gazed up to Shigure. 

“Probably?”

“Well, with your permission to keep modeling, of course.”

“Oh, please. You should know by now I’d do anything to help you.”

Shigure laughed, nuzzling into the soft of Hisame’s hair. “Yes, of course.”


End file.
